# **GRANNY'S DINER – TWO DAYS LATER**
The booth has become their unofficial headquarters—Harry, Emma, and Regina occupying the same corner spot like they're claiming territory. Which, in a way, they are.
Henry sits at the counter doing homework (or pretending to while actually listening to everything), and Ruby circles like a particularly graceful shark, refilling coffee and dropping comments that are either insightful or deliberately provocative.
Possibly both.
"So," Emma says, tapping her phone against the table. "Dates. We're doing dates. Plural. How does this work?"
"Individual dates first," Regina suggests. She's wearing a burgundy blouse that probably costs more than Emma's car, hair pulled back, looking composed except for the way her fingers drum against her coffee cup. "Get to know each other one-on-one. Then we can figure out... group dynamics."
"Group dynamics," Harry repeats, and his smile is amused. "That's very diplomatic."
"I'm a politician. Diplomacy is my specialty."
"You cursed an entire kingdom."
"*Diplomatically*."
Emma snorts into her coffee. "Okay. Individual dates. Who goes first?"
"I could," Harry offers. "Though fair warning: my idea of a date involves walking around talking about existential philosophy and occasionally stopping to examine interesting architecture. I'm told this is boring."
"By who?" Regina asks.
"Ghosts. Memories. My own internal monologue." Harry pauses. "They were very judgmental about my date ideas."
"Your internal monologue needs therapy," Emma observes.
"I know. I'm working on it." Harry looks between them. "But seriously. I'm flexible. Whatever you both prefer."
Ruby appears with fresh coffee and slides into the booth beside Harry without asking permission. "Or—and hear me out—I could join."
Three pairs of eyes turn to her.
Ruby's smile is sharp and confident. "You're all interesting. You're all attractive. You're all emotionally damaged in fascinating ways. I'm a bisexual werewolf who's been stuck in a cursed town for twenty-eight years pretending to be a waitress. I think I fit the demographic."
Silence.
"That's..." Emma starts.
"Bold?" Ruby supplies. "Yeah. I know. But you're all dancing around this very carefully, trying not to hurt each other, being considerate. Which is sweet. But also unnecessarily complicated." She looks at Harry. "You're interested in both of them. Admit it."
"I already did," Harry says mildly.
"Right. Good." Ruby turns to Emma and Regina. "You're both interested in him. And—" her smile widens, "—if we're being honest, there's tension between you two that's not entirely antagonistic."
Regina's cheeks flush. "That's—"
"Accurate?" Ruby finishes. "I've been watching you both. The way you look at each other when you think no one's paying attention. The way you worked together to fix the curse. That's not just former enemies making peace. That's *chemistry*."
Emma opens her mouth. Closes it. "I—"
"Are you saying you want to date all three of us?" Harry asks, cutting through the awkwardness with the precision of someone who's genuinely curious rather than threatened.
"I'm saying I'm interested in seeing where this goes," Ruby says. "If you're all comfortable with that. If not, I'll back off. But I figured honesty was the policy we were going for."
Regina is staring at Ruby like she's trying to solve a particularly complex equation. "You're very direct."
"I'm a wolf. We don't do subtle." Ruby's gaze is steady. "Also, life's short. Or in Harry's case, very long. Either way, why waste time pretending we don't all find each other compelling?"
Emma looks at Harry. Harry looks at Regina. Regina looks at Emma.
Henry, from the counter, calls out: "I think Ruby should join! More people means more interesting family dynamics!"
"You're ten," Emma says. "You don't get a vote."
"I broke the curse. I absolutely get a vote."
"That's not how voting works."
"Should be."
Ruby laughs—warm and genuine. "Kid's got a point. He did save everyone."
"Don't encourage him," Regina says, but there's affection in her voice. She looks at Ruby, really looks at her. "You're serious about this."
"Completely. I've known you both for years—well, cursed versions of you. But now? Now you're real people. Complex people. Interesting people." Ruby's voice softens. "And Harry's... well. Harry's Harry. Powerful and broken and somehow still trying to be kind. That's rare."
Harry shifts uncomfortably. "I'm right here."
"I know. I'm complimenting you. Accept it gracefully."
"I don't know how to do that."
"Learn."
Emma is doing mental calculations that are probably visible on her face. "So we're potentially looking at... what? Four people? All dating each other?"
"If everyone's comfortable," Ruby says. "If not, like I said—I'll back off."
"That's very considerate," Harry says. "Also very brave. This could go catastrophically wrong."
"Most things worth doing can." Ruby's smile is knowing. "But you're the Master of Death who spent fifty years alone. Emma's the Savior who grew up in foster care never believing in magic. Regina's the Evil Queen trying to be better than her mother. And I'm a werewolf who spent three decades thinking I was just a waitress." She spreads her hands. "We're all disasters. Might as well be disasters together."
Regina makes a sound that might be a laugh or might be existential despair. "That's the worst pitch for polyamory I've ever heard."
"Have you heard many?"
"No, but I'm sure they're better than 'we're all disasters.'"
"Are they though?" Ruby challenges.
Regina considers this. "Probably not."
Emma is still processing. "Okay. Okay. Let's... let's take this one step at a time. Ruby, you're interested in joining this already complicated situation."
"Yes."
"Harry, you're comfortable with that?"
Harry tilts his head. "I spent fifty years alone. The idea of having multiple people interested in me is so far outside my experience I don't have a frame of reference. But Ruby seems lovely, so... yes?"
"That's the most uncertain yes I've ever heard," Emma observes.
"I'm uncertain about everything. It's part of my charm."
"Is it charm? I thought it was trauma."
"Can't it be both?"
Regina interrupts. "Emma. Stop deflecting. Are *you* comfortable with Ruby joining?"
Emma looks at Ruby—at her sharp smile and confident posture and the way she moves like every gesture is deliberate. "I don't know. Maybe? This is all very new and very weird and I'm still processing the fact that I'm potentially dating two people, let alone three."
"Four," Henry calls from the counter. "There are four of you."
"You're not dating anyone," Emma says. "You're ten."
"I meant you're potentially dating three *other* people. Math, Mom. It's important."
"I know how math works."
"Do you though?"
Ruby grins. "I like this kid."
"Everyone likes Henry," Regina says fondly. "He's impossible not to like."
"That's because I'm charming and also the only reason any of you remembered who you were," Henry says matter-of-factly. "I'm very important."
"And humble," Harry adds.
"That too."
Emma pinches the bridge of her nose. "Okay. Here's what we're doing. We're all going to think about this. No pressure. No immediate decisions. And then—" she looks at Ruby, "—if everyone's comfortable, we can try a group thing. Dinner or something. See how it feels."
"Dinner," Ruby says. "I can work with dinner. I'll even cook."
"You cook?" Regina sounds surprised.
"I'm a werewolf. We're very tactile and food-oriented. Cooking is therapeutic." Ruby stands, smoothing her apron. "I'll make something impressive. You all can sit around being emotionally complicated at each other. It'll be great."
She leaves before anyone can argue.
The three of them sit in silence.
"Did we just agree to a polyamorous dinner party?" Emma asks finally.
"I think so," Harry says.
"This town is *so weird*," Emma mutters.
"You're just noticing this now?" Regina's smile is slight. "We've had true love curses, magical beans, and wraith attacks. Polyamory is comparatively normal."
"Your normal is broken."
"I know. I'm working on it."
Harry's watching them both with open affection. "For what it's worth, I think this could work. Or it could be a disaster. But either way, it'll be interesting."
"That's not comforting," Emma says.
"I'm not good at comforting. I'm good at honest." Harry's smile is crooked. "But I want this to work. All of it. With you, with Regina, potentially with Ruby. I haven't wanted anything in decades. So I'm going to try."
Regina's expression softens. "That's actually very sweet."
"Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation as a mysterious dimensional refugee to maintain."
"Too late. I'm telling everyone."
"Betrayed by someone I'm potentially dating. This is new."
Emma laughs despite herself. "You're both ridiculous."
"We know," they say in unison.
Henry appears at the booth, backpack slung over his shoulder. "So when's the group date? I need to know for scheduling purposes."
"You're not coming to the group date," Emma says.
"Why not? I'm invested in this relationship."
"You're *ten*."
"I'm very mature for my age."
"No."
"But—"
"*No*."
Henry sighs dramatically. "Fine. But I expect detailed reports. For the book."
"The book?" Harry asks.
"I'm documenting everything. For posterity. And also because this is the best story ever and someone should write it down." Henry looks at Harry seriously. "You're the Survivor who met the Savior and the Queen. This is important."
Harry's smile is genuine. "Then document away. Just... maybe leave out the really awkward parts?"
"The awkward parts are the best parts."
"Of course they are."
Henry leaves, and the three of them are alone again.
"He's right, you know," Regina says quietly. "This is a good story. Broken people finding each other. Choosing to try despite everything."
"It's a messy story," Emma corrects.
"All the best stories are." Regina's gaze moves between them. "So. Dates. When?"
"Tomorrow?" Harry suggests. "I can take each of you somewhere. Separately. Get to know you without the group dynamic confusing things."
"Where would we go?" Emma asks. "Storybrooke isn't exactly known for romantic venues."
"Then we'll make our own." Harry's smile is warm. "I've gotten very good at making something out of nothing. Trust me?"
Emma and Regina exchange glances.
"Okay," Emma says. "Tomorrow. You and me. Let's see what you've got, Potter."
"Challenge accepted." Harry looks at Regina. "The day after?"
"I'll clear my schedule," Regina says. "But I expect something impressive. I have high standards."
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't."
Ruby reappears with the check—sliding it onto the table with a knowing smile. "This one's on me. Consider it an investment in the most interesting relationship development Storybrooke's seen in decades."
"We're not paying?" Emma asks.
"Nope. But you are coming to my dinner party. That's the price."
"That's extortion."
"That's capitalism." Ruby winks. "See you all tomorrow. Wear something nice. Or don't. I'm flexible."
She leaves again, and Emma stares at the check. "I don't know whether to be flattered or concerned."
"Both," Harry and Regina say simultaneously.
Emma laughs. "Yeah. Both sounds right."
They leave the diner together—three people who shouldn't work but somehow do, stepping out into the Storybrooke afternoon like they're walking into a story that hasn't been written yet.
Behind them, Henry is already documenting in his notebook.
And in the kitchen, Ruby is planning a menu that will either bring people together or cause spectacular disaster.
Either way, it's going to be *interesting*.
---
# **SHERIFF'S STATION – THE NEXT MORNING**
Emma is attempting to do actual work—paperwork from the wraith incident, incident reports that sound insane even as she's writing them—when Gold walks in.
She knows immediately something's wrong.
Not dangerous-wrong. *Desperate*-wrong.
Gold moves with his usual controlled grace, cane tapping precisely, but his eyes are harder than usual. Sharper. Like he's made a decision he doesn't want to make but will anyway.
"Sheriff Swan," he says politely. "Do you have a moment?"
Emma's hand moves instinctively toward her gun—muscle memory from too many bail bond pickups gone wrong. "Depends. Are you here to summon more wraiths?"
"That was a miscalculation," Gold says smoothly. "I've learned from it."
"Have you?"
"I'm here to call in a favor." Gold settles into the chair across from her desk with the ease of someone who knows he's already won. "You owe me one. From before the curse broke."
Emma's jaw tightens. She remembers. Gold helped her with something—she can't recall the exact details through the curse-fog, but the *weight* of the debt is clear. "What do you want?"
Gold produces a small vial from his pocket—something that glows faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat. "I have a spell. A tracking spell. It requires someone with investigative skills, someone who's lived in the outside world, someone who won't lose themselves crossing the town line."
"You want me to help you find your son."
"Yes." Gold's voice is quiet. Honest. "Baelfire is out there. Somewhere in this world. I have his baby blanket to anchor the spell. I have magic to track him. But I need someone who can actually navigate the modern world, who knows how to find people who don't want to be found."
Emma studies him. "You were a bail bondsperson," Gold continues. "Before you came here. You tracked people down for a living. You're uniquely qualified."
"And if I say no?"
"Then I'll find another way." Gold's expression is unreadable. "But the favor is owed, Miss Swan. I'm simply asking you to pay it in a way that doesn't involve property damage or moral compromise."
Emma wants to argue. Wants to refuse. But—
She looks at the vial in Gold's hand. The desperate hope in his eyes hidden behind all that control.
She thinks about Henry. About what she'd do to find him if he was lost.
"Fine," she says. "I'll help. But we do this my way. No magic tricks. No deals. No surprises."
"Agreed." Gold stands, setting a small bundle on her desk—soft fabric, aged, carefully preserved. A baby blanket. "His blanket. From when he was an infant. It should be enough to anchor the tracking spell."
Emma touches it carefully. The fabric is old but clean, obviously cherished. "When do we leave?"
"Tomorrow. Dawn. The spell will take time to prepare." Gold pauses. "Thank you, Miss Swan."
"Don't thank me yet. We haven't found him."
"No. But we will." Gold's smile is small and genuine. "I have to believe that."
He leaves, and Emma is left staring at a baby blanket that represents thirty years of desperate hope.
The door opens again—Harry this time, looking windswept and carrying what appears to be a bouquet of wildflowers he definitely picked himself.
"Am I interrupting?" he asks.
"Yes. But it's fine." Emma gestures at the blanket. "Gold just asked me to help find his son. We're leaving tomorrow."
Harry's expression sharpens. "Leaving Storybrooke? As in, crossing the town line?"
"Yes."
"And you're okay with that? After what happened to Sneezy?"
"The curse is fixed. Regina fixed it. We can leave and remember who we are now." Emma touches the blanket again. "I owe Gold a favor. And honestly? I've been a bail bondsperson. Tracking people down is what I do. If his kid is out there, I can find him."
Harry sets the flowers on her desk—they're actually lovely, wild and unstructured and clearly chosen with care. "Then I'm coming with you."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to." Harry's voice is firm. "I've been in Storybrooke for three days. I'd like to see more of this world. Plus—" his smile is slight, "—if you're tracking down someone who might not want to be found, having backup seems practical."
"Backup." Emma's smile is genuine. "You, Master of Death, dimensional refugee, wraith therapist—you're offering to be my backup on a missing person case."
"I'm very good at convincing people to do things they don't want to do. See: the wraith, Regina's magic, Gold's cooperation. It's a skill." Harry tilts his head. "Plus, I'd like to spend time with you outside of Storybrooke. See how you operate in your element."
Emma's cheeks flush slightly. "Is this the date? Because tracking down Gold's son seems like a weird first date."
"All the best first dates involve mysterious tracking spells and emotionally fraught family reunions," Harry says seriously. "I read that somewhere. Probably."
"You definitely didn't."
"Then I'm starting a new trend."
Emma laughs. "You're ridiculous."
"I've been told." Harry's gaze is warm. "But seriously. Let me come. I'll be helpful. Or at least entertaining."
Emma considers. Having Harry along actually makes sense—he's powerful, clever, and apparently very good at talking people into things. Plus the idea of spending time with him outside the fishbowl of Storybrooke is appealing.
"Fine. But you follow my lead. I'm the investigator. You're the... magical consultant."
"I can live with that."
The door bursts open—Henry, breathless and excited.
"Mom! I heard you're going to find Gold's son! I want to come!"
Emma's immediate reaction is automatic. "No. Absolutely not."
"But Mom—"
"Henry, you remember what happened last time you left Storybrooke." Emma's voice is firm. "You came to Boston to find me. Alone. On a bus. You were *ten years old* and you crossed state lines by yourself."
"And it worked out!" Henry protests. "I found you! I brought you back! I broke the curse!"
"You also could have been kidnapped, hurt, or worse." Emma stands, moving around the desk. "You got incredibly lucky. That doesn't mean I'm letting you do it again."
"But this is different! You'll be there! And Harry! And we know where we're going—"
"We don't know where we're going," Emma interrupts. "We're tracking someone using magic and following whatever leads appear. That's not safe for a kid."
"I'm not a kid! I'm the one who believed! I'm the one who saved everyone!"
"And you're also ten," Emma says gently but firmly. "The answer is no, Henry."
Henry's face falls. His eyes fill with tears—not manipulative ones, genuine disappointment and hurt. "You don't want me there."
"That's not—" Emma's chest tightens. "Henry, that's not true. I want to spend time with you. But this isn't the right situation."
"When *is* the right situation?" Henry's voice cracks. "You just got here. You're my birth mom and I barely know you. And now you're leaving again and I can't even come with you?"
The guilt hits Emma like a physical blow.
Harry, who's been watching this exchange quietly, speaks up. "Emma. May I?"
Emma nods, not trusting her voice.
Harry crouches down to Henry's level. "Henry. I understand why you want to come. You want to spend time with Emma. You want to be part of the adventure. You want to prove you're capable."
"Yes!" Henry wipes his eyes. "Exactly!"
"But Emma's right to be cautious." Harry's voice is gentle. "The last time you left Storybrooke, you were incredibly brave. Also incredibly reckless. You put yourself in danger because you believed in something. That's admirable. But belief doesn't make you invincible."
Henry's jaw sets stubbornly. "You don't understand—"
"I do, actually." Harry's smile is sad. "When I was eleven, I learned I was a wizard. That I was famous. That I was supposed to save everyone from a dark lord. And I spent the next seven years throwing myself into danger because I believed it was my destiny." He pauses. "A lot of people died because I believed I had to do everything myself. Because I didn't let the adults protect me when I should have."
Henry stares at him.
"This isn't about whether you're capable or brave," Harry continues. "It's about whether this particular situation is appropriate for someone your age. And Emma—" he glances up at her, "—is trying to be a good parent by keeping you safe."
"But I want to be with her," Henry whispers.
"I know." Harry's voice is warm. "Tell you what. When we get back, I'll teach you something magical. Theory, not practice—you're too young for actual spellcasting. But you can learn how magic works. How to understand it. That way, next time there's an adventure, you'll be better prepared."
Henry considers this. "Really?"
"Really. I promise." Harry stands, offering his hand. "Deal?"
Henry shakes it solemnly. "Deal." He looks at Emma. "But you have to call me. Every day. So I know you're okay."
Emma's throat is tight. "Every day. I promise."
"And you have to tell me everything when you get back. All the details. For the book."
"All the details," Emma agrees.
Henry nods, then looks at Harry. "Take care of her. Please. She's new at the mom thing and she doesn't always protect herself properly."
Harry's smile is genuine. "I will. You have my word."
Henry leaves—disappointed but accepting—and Emma collapses back into her chair.
"Thank you," she says quietly. "For that. I didn't know how to—I'm not good at the parent thing yet."
"You're doing fine," Harry says. "Being a parent means making hard choices. Saying no when you want to say yes. Protecting them even when they hate you for it."
"You sound like you have experience."
"I had a godson. Teddy. Raised him after his parents died." Harry's voice is distant. "He died seventy years ago. But I remember what it was like. Trying to be the parent he needed while being completely terrified I'd fail him."
Emma looks at him—at the grief still visible in his eyes after all this time. "Did you? Fail him?"
"I don't know. He died in the war. Too young. I couldn't protect him from the end of the world." Harry's smile is bitter. "But before that? I tried. That's all any of us can do. Try."
"That's what I'm doing," Emma says softly. "Trying. And failing. And trying again."
"Then you're already a better parent than most." Harry moves around the desk, taking her hand. "Emma. Henry adores you. Even when you say no. Even when you make him stay behind. He knows you care. That's what matters."
Emma squeezes his hand. "You're good at this. The emotional support thing."
"Fifty years of talking to myself gave me a lot of practice with therapy." Harry's smile is crooked. "Plus, you're important to me. Helping you is easy."
Emma's breath catches. "Harry—"
He kisses her.
It's gentle. Careful. A reassurance and a promise.
When he pulls back, Emma's eyes are suspiciously bright.
"That was nice," she manages.
"Just nice?" Harry's tone is teasing.
"Significantly better than nice. Extraordinary, even."
"Better." Harry's thumb traces her cheek. "Tomorrow we're leaving on a quest to find Gold's son. Tonight—" he glances at the wildflowers, "—can I take you to dinner? Actual dinner. Not quest-planning. Just... us."
"I'd like that," Emma says. "A lot."
"Good." Harry steps back, but keeps hold of her hand. "I'll pick you up at seven. Wear something comfortable. We're going to the beach."
"The beach?"
"I've been in Storybrooke for three days and haven't seen the ocean yet. That feels like a waste." Harry's smile is warm. "Plus, I thought we could have a picnic. Talk. Figure out how to be... whatever we're being."
"A couple?" Emma suggests.
"A complicated couple with two other people potentially involved?" Harry counters.
"That sounds about right."
"Then it's a date. A proper one. No wraiths. No curses. Just us."
Emma's smile is genuine. "I'm looking forward to it."
Harry leaves, and Emma is alone with wildflowers and a baby blanket and the warmth of a kiss still lingering.
Tomorrow she's leaving Storybrooke to track down a man who probably doesn't want to be found.
Tonight she has a date with a dimensional refugee who fell through reality and decided to stay.
Her life has become very weird.
But also—maybe—very good.
---
# **REGINA'S MANSION – LATE AFTERNOON**
Regina is in her study when Emma arrives, announced by Henry who bounds ahead like an enthusiastic puppy.
"Mom! Emma's here! She wants to talk to you!"
Regina looks up from Cora's grimoire, magic still dancing around her fingers. "Thank you, Henry. Why don't you give us a moment?"
Henry nods and disappears, and Emma steps into the study with the awkwardness of someone entering territory that's simultaneously familiar and foreign.
"Hi," Emma says.
"Hi." Regina closes the grimoire carefully. "Henry told me about Gold's request. And that you're leaving tomorrow."
"I am." Emma moves further into the room. "I came to tell you myself. And to ask—" she hesitates, "—if you'd come with us."
Regina blinks. "You want me to come?"
"Gold needs someone who can track people. That's me. But he also might need magical support. That's you." Emma's voice is careful. "Plus, I thought—if we're doing this whole complicated relationship thing—spending time together outside Storybrooke might be good. See how we work in the real world."
Regina processes this. "You want to take a road trip. To find Gold's son. As a bonding experience."
"When you put it like that, it sounds insane."
"It *is* insane." Regina stands, moving around the desk. "But I like it. Yes. I'll come."
"Really?"
"Really." Regina's smile is slight. "I've been trapped in Storybrooke for thirty years. Seeing the outside world—actually remembering it this time—sounds appealing. Plus—" her gaze is warm, "—spending time with you outside of crisis situations sounds nice."
Emma's cheeks flush. "Nice?"
"Very nice." Regina steps closer. "Emma. About us. About this—whatever we're building—"
"Yeah?"
"I want it to work. I want *us* to work. All of us—you, me, Harry, possibly Ruby if we're being ambitious." Regina's voice is steady. "But I'm not good at this. At being vulnerable. At trusting that people won't leave when things get difficult."
"I'm not good at it either," Emma admits. "I've spent my whole life expecting people to abandon me. Being a parent, being in a relationship—any relationship—it's terrifying."
"Then we'll be terrified together." Regina takes Emma's hands. "And we'll try. That's all we can do."
Emma looks at their joined hands. "Henry wanted to come. I said no."
"Good." Regina's voice is firm. "He's too young for this kind of thing. He already took one unsupervised trip out of Storybrooke. He doesn't need another."
"He was upset."
"He'll survive. Being upset occasionally is part of being a child with parents who actually care about his safety." Regina squeezes Emma's hands. "You did the right thing."
"It didn't feel right."
"It never does. But being a parent means making hard choices. You're learning that. So am I."
They stand there for a moment—hands linked, processing the strange intimacy of co-parenting with someone you're also potentially dating.
"This is weird," Emma says finally.
"Extremely," Regina agrees. "But good weird?"
"Good weird," Emma confirms.
Regina smiles—genuine and soft. "When do we leave?"
"Dawn tomorrow. Gold's preparing the tracking spell tonight." Emma pauses. "Harry's coming too. He wants to see more of this world."
"Of course he does. He's been alone for fifty years. Every new experience is probably exciting." Regina's expression is fond. "He's quite remarkable, isn't he?"
"He really is." Emma's voice is warm. "He's broken and powerful and somehow still kind. I didn't think people like that existed."
"Neither did I." Regina meets her eyes. "We're lucky. All of us. To have found each other."
"Yeah," Emma says softly. "We are."
They're still standing close—too close for just friendship, not close enough for what they might become—when Henry bursts back in.
"Are you guys having a moment? Because you look like you're having a moment."
"Henry!" Regina's cheeks flush. "Privacy!"
"I knocked!"
"No you didn't."
"I thought about knocking. That should count."
Emma laughs. "Kid, your timing is terrible."
"I know. It's a gift." Henry looks between them. "So Mom's going with you to find Gold's son?"
"She is," Emma confirms.
"Good. That means you'll both be safe. Together. Like a team." Henry grins. "Like a family."
Regina's expression melts. "Yes, Henry. Like a family."
"Excellent." Henry pulls out his notebook. "I'm documenting this. The chapter where the Savior and the Queen go on a quest together. It's very symbolic."
"Everything's symbolic to you," Emma observes.
"That's because everything *is* symbolic. Life is a story. We're all characters." Henry's voice is serious. "And this is the part where you all figure out you're meant to be together."
"You're very confident about that," Regina says.
"I have true belief. It's literally my thing."
Emma and Regina exchange glances—amused and touched and slightly overwhelmed by Henry's absolute certainty.
"Go do your homework," Regina says gently. "Emma and I have planning to do."
"Fine. But I want a full report when you get back. With details."
"Age-appropriate details," Emma clarifies.
"Those are the boring details."
"Too bad."
Henry leaves, still grinning, and Regina shakes her head fondly.
"He's impossible."
"He's perfect," Emma corrects.
"He's both." Regina looks at Emma. "Thank you. For including me. For trusting me enough to ask me to come."
"Thank you for saying yes." Emma's smile is genuine. "Tomorrow's going to be interesting."
"Tomorrow's going to be chaotic," Regina corrects. "But we'll manage."
"Together?"
"Together."
They leave the study like that—hands linked briefly before separating, preparing for whatever comes next.
Because tomorrow they're leaving Storybrooke.
Tomorrow they're tracking down a man who doesn't know his father is looking for him.
Tomorrow they're taking the first real step into something new and terrifying and potentially wonderful.
Tomorrow, the story continues.
And for the first time in decades, none of them know how it ends.
That's terrifying.
That's *perfect*.
—
# **MARY MARGARET'S APARTMENT – 6:30 PM**
Emma stares at her closet like it's personally offended her.
She owns exactly three types of clothing: sheriff uniform, leather jacket with jeans, and one dress she wore to Henry's school thing that one time. None of these seem appropriate for a beach picnic with an immortal wizard who accidentally flirts and looks at her like she's the most interesting thing he's seen in fifty years.
"This is ridiculous," she mutters, pulling out jeans for the third time. "It's just a date. A normal date. With a completely abnormal person. Who I'm sharing with two other women. This is fine. Everything is fine."
"You're spiraling," Mary Margaret observes from the doorway, holding two mugs of hot chocolate with cinnamon.
Emma jumps. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to watch you pull out the same jeans three times." Mary Margaret enters, handing Emma a mug. "Nervous?"
"No. Maybe. Yes." Emma takes a sip—perfect temperature, perfect sweetness, because of course Mary Margaret knows exactly how she likes it. "I don't know how to do this. The dating thing. Especially not with someone like Harry."
"Someone like Harry," Mary Margaret repeats, settling on Emma's bed. "You mean powerful? Damaged? Unfairly attractive?"
"All of the above." Emma slumps against the closet door. "Also—I'm doing this whole polyamory thing apparently? With Regina? And possibly Ruby? This is insane."
"It's unconventional," Mary Margaret corrects gently. "But not insane. You're all adults. You're all interested in each other. As long as everyone's honest and communicating—"
"That's the problem. I'm terrible at honest communication."
"Then learn." Mary Margaret's voice is warm. "Emma, you've spent your whole life protecting yourself. Building walls. Not letting people in. This—" she gestures at the closet, the clothes, the visible anxiety, "—this is you trying something different. That's brave."
Emma's throat tightens. "What if I mess it up?"
"Then you apologize and try again. That's what relationships are—trying, failing, trying again." Mary Margaret stands, moving to the closet. She pulls out a blue top Emma forgot she owned. "Wear this. With the dark jeans. And your leather jacket if it makes you feel safer."
"I don't need—" Emma stops. "Okay, yes. The jacket makes me feel safer."
"I know." Mary Margaret's smile is knowing. "It's your armor. Eventually you won't need it as much. But for now, wear it."
Emma takes the blue top, examining it. "When did you get so wise about relationships?"
"I've been married to your father for decades. Cursed decades, but still." Mary Margaret's expression softens. "Emma. Harry looks at you like you're precious. Like you're worth protecting and cherishing. Let him. You deserve that."
"Do I?"
"Yes." Mary Margaret's voice is firm. "You absolutely do. And so does Regina. And so does Harry, for that matter. You're all trying to heal from different hurts. Maybe you can do that together."
Emma changes quickly, adding the leather jacket with visible relief. She examines herself in the mirror—casual but nice, armored but approachable.
"You look beautiful," Mary Margaret says.
"You have to say that. You're my mom."
"I'm saying it because it's true." Mary Margaret hugs her from behind, and Emma can see both their reflections—mother and daughter, roommates turned family. "Have fun tonight. Let yourself be happy. You've earned it."
Emma's eyes are suspiciously bright. "This is weird. Having a mom. Having someone care."
"Get used to it. I'm not going anywhere." Mary Margaret squeezes her shoulders. "Now go. Harry's probably having his own crisis downstairs. Someone should rescue him."
"Downstairs?"
"David cornered him ten minutes ago. I assume he's giving the father talk." Mary Margaret's smile is mischievous. "I'd hurry if I were you."
Emma grabs her keys and bolts.
---
# **GRANNY'S DINER – 6:40 PM**
Harry has laid out three identical black shirts on his bed and is trying to determine if any of them are more "date appropriate" than the others.
They all look the same.
He's pretty sure they *are* the same—conjured from the same memory, the same understanding of what clothing should be.
"This is why I spent fifty years alone," he tells the shirts. "No one to judge my complete lack of fashion sense."
There's a knock at the door—firm, authoritative, not Ruby's usual cheerful intrusion.
"Come in," Harry calls, already bracing himself.
David Nolan enters, looking every inch the concerned father despite being roughly the same physical age as Harry appears. Behind him, Ruby lurks in the hallway, clearly hoping for entertainment.
"Mr. Potter," David says formally. "Do you have a moment?"
"I have several," Harry says carefully. "Though I suspect this conversation is going to use most of them."
"Smart." David closes the door, leaving Ruby to eavesdrop from outside. He surveys the three identical shirts with visible amusement. "Going well, I see."
"I haven't picked out date clothes in eighty years. My skills are rusty."
"I can see that." David moves to the closet, opens it with the confidence of someone who's helped many people prepare for important occasions. "Here's the thing, Potter. Emma is my daughter."
"I'm aware."
"She's been hurt. A lot. By people who were supposed to care about her." David pulls out a shirt—deep green, nicer than anything Harry remembers conjuring. "If you hurt her—"
"You'll kill me?" Harry supplies. "Destroy me? Make me wish I'd stayed in my dead dimension?"
David pauses. "Actually, I was going to say I'd be very disappointed. And I'd tell Mary Margaret. She's terrifying when she's disappointed."
Harry blinks. "That's... not what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"Threats. Violence. The standard protective father speech." Harry takes the green shirt hesitantly. "I've read about them. Never experienced one personally, but the literature is consistent."
David's expression softens. "Harry. You saved Regina from a wraith. You helped fix the curse. You've been kind to Henry. And you look at Emma like she's the most important person in the world." He pauses. "I don't need to threaten you. I just need to know you understand what you're taking on."
"I do," Harry says quietly. "Emma's been alone. Abandoned. Taught not to trust that good things can last. I understand that because I've lived it. Different circumstances, same result."
"And you think you can handle that? Her walls, her fear, her tendency to run when things get complicated?"
"I think I can try." Harry meets David's gaze steadily. "I don't know if I'll succeed. I'm damaged in my own ways. But I care about her. Genuinely. And I'll do my best not to hurt her."
David studies him for a long moment. Then nods. "That's all I can ask." He gestures at the green shirt. "Wear that. Emma likes green."
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm her father. It's my job to notice these things." David moves toward the door, pauses. "One more thing."
"Yes?"
"The polyamory situation. With Regina and possibly Ruby."
Harry's cheeks flush. "Ah. That."
"Emma needs to make her own choices. If this is what she wants—if you all want it and communicate honestly—then I support it." David's voice is firm. "But the moment anyone gets hurt because of dishonesty or lack of communication, I *will* step in. Understood?"
"Understood," Harry says. "And for what it's worth—I have no idea how this is supposed to work. I'm making it up as I go along."
"We all are," David says, surprisingly gentle. "Just be honest about that. With Emma, with Regina, with yourself. That's the only way this doesn't become a disaster."
He leaves, and Harry is alone with the green shirt and the weight of a father's trust.
Ruby immediately appears in the doorway. "That went well!"
"You were listening."
"Obviously." Ruby holds up the shirt she'd been planning to offer. "Oh good, David already gave you the nice one. Put it on. Let's see if it fits."
Harry takes the shirt hesitantly. "Are you planning to watch?"
"Absolutely. You're dating my future girlfriend. I need to make sure you're representing us well."
"That's not how—" Harry stops. "Actually, I have no idea how this works. Fine. Turn around."
Ruby laughs but obliges, and Harry changes quickly. The shirt fits perfectly—David must have guessed his size with unsettling accuracy.
"Okay," he says.
Ruby turns back, examines him critically. "Much better. You look like a functional adult instead of a traumatized dimensional refugee."
"I am a traumatized dimensional refugee."
"But now you're a *well-dressed* traumatized dimensional refugee. There's a difference." Ruby adjusts his collar with practiced efficiency. "Emma's going to lose her mind. In a good way."
Harry's cheeks flush. "That's... optimistic."
"That's accurate." Ruby steps back, satisfied. "You're attractive, powerful, and genuinely kind. That's a rare combination. Emma knows it. So does Regina. So do I."
"You're all very direct about this."
"Life's short. Or long, in your case. Either way—why waste time?" Ruby moves toward the door, pauses. "Harry? Have fun tonight. Let yourself be happy. You've earned it."
Harry swallows hard. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it. Just bring her back at a reasonable hour. David seems nice, but I bet he has a sword somewhere."
She leaves, and Harry is alone with his reflection—green shirt, dark trousers, looking almost human.
Almost normal.
He touches his face, half expecting it to dissolve. But no—he's solid. Real. Actually going on a date.
"Don't mess this up," he tells himself.
---
# **MAIN STREET – 7:00 PM**
Emma arrives at the beach access path to find Harry already waiting, holding a picnic basket that looks suspiciously well-organized.
He's wearing green—a color that makes his eyes even more impossibly vibrant—and he's looking at her like she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
"Hi," she manages.
"Hi." Harry's smile is soft. "You look incredible."
"It's just jeans and a shirt."
"You make them look incredible." Harry offers his arm. "Shall we?"
Emma takes it, feeling the warmth of him through the fabric. "Did you actually pack a picnic, or did you magic one into existence?"
"Bit of both," Harry admits. "Ruby helped. Apparently I can't be trusted to understand modern food."
"She's not wrong."
They walk toward the beach together—comfortable, nervous, perfect—while the sun begins its descent toward the horizon.
And in the apartment above the diner, Mary Margaret watches from the window with David beside her.
"Think they'll be okay?" David asks.
"I think they'll be perfect," Mary Margaret says, taking his hand. "They just need to figure that out themselves."
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord (HHHwRsB6wd) server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Can't wait to see you there!